


Blank Dream

by rachelfuckingdare (pjolesbian)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, PJO Oneshot, my poor daughter, that i hurt myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:06:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7662448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pjolesbian/pseuds/rachelfuckingdare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel has never felt more a pawn than when she sits alone in her cave, with Delphi as her only companion. Post HOO, Pre TOA</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blank Dream

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this drabble thing late at night over a few nights to stay awake, so obviously not great lol. Just a oneshot, but I might write more if I'm interested? Or if you guys are? Idk, lemme know what you think, I mostly just wrote it because I actually felt like writing for once!! go me!!

Rachel was there, and she wasn’t.

Night had fallen in her cave, late enough for the sky to phase from pitch black into a deep midnight blue. Not that she could tell the difference at the time, though; the only light source inside her shadowed cave was the spirit of Delphi casting it’s sickly green glow as it overcame her.

It wouldn’t be quite right to describe it as an “out of body” experience. Because she could feel every single nerve in her spine as the chill ran through her, and she could still hear her own voice inside her head as though it were gasping and sputtering, the way she couldn’t with her throat, alongside the broken, disconnected thoughts hissed by the Oracle. There was no room for her to even form ideas or words, when Delphi was acting up like this; she could only think in concepts, think _pain, disoriented,_ think _helplessness._

These episodes could last for over an hour, ending with Rachel retching against the floor without a single clue about _anything_ , left to realize what had been whispered into her mind only much later into her recovery. She might lay there a while, not wanting to confront reality but far too afraid to drift into sleep. Or she may reach for her acrylics, still huddled tight against the stone floor with her knees packed to her chest, and fingerpaint on the walls. And though this tactic tended to be the most soothing, Rachel tried to avoid it. Because sooner than she could fully regain her senses and recollect her thoughts, Rachel would be greeted by a new mural depicting her latest possession.

This is what had happened that night in particular, and through hazy vision Rachel had peered up to discover a set of dripping wet eyes glaring back. She jumped back, startled by her own work. The face they were attached to seemed to scorn her, the mouth twisted and it’s gaze leveled with an amused sort of contempt. Laughing at her, Rachel realized. Of course, she could see it now: a man, his skin sickly yellow (whether that was the intention or simply limited by her acrylics, Rachel couldn’t be certain), and his attire reminiscent of those robes and sheets worn in ancient Greece. He was a dominating presence, the lines of his face bold and sharp; cruel. His hands were blackened, and his arms were full of, well, something. Rachel could tell that the items were white and oblong, but she’d blurred too much of it to tell any further.

She sat up now, focusing back to the Grecian’s haughty chin and his intense eye. Black as a void, they bore into her. _Really,_ they spoke, _this is the Oracle? This, this_ girl _, alone in the dark, matted and feral? Chosen of Phobos Apollo! Hah,_ the voice roared, harsh and spitting. Rachel worked to distinguish between the voice of Delphi and the one she was imagining, but failed. _This is what we’re up against!_ it continued savagely, raising continually in voice and pitch, _PATHETIC! THIS IS THE LEGACY? MEN, CONTINUE AS YOU WERE! THERE WILL BE NO SYMPATHY FOR A SMALL WOMAN PLAYING GOD, WHO CANNOT EVEN MANAGE TO CLEAR THE SPIT FROM HER OWN MUZZLE. WE WILL CREATE A NEW PROPHET, MY FRIENDS, WHO IS WORTHY OF THE TITLE I HAVE WORKED SO THANKLESSLY FOR! END THIS NOW, BROTHERS, AND SPARE THE NAME OF DELPHI FROM THE SHAME IT HAS ENDURED! END THIS, FOR NOW AND FOR GOOD!_

It was as though lightning had struck in her cavern, and Rachel fell with the shock beneath her eyelids. Her world blinked out, unexpected and unlike before, and she had time only for a moment of terror and foreboding before everything went blank. There was a soundtrack booming the man’s derisive laugh, a broken record that played Rachel asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> ??? idk either lmao. Please leave a comment if you liked it though!! I'm thinking of writing some other things soon too, and the feedback really helps :)


End file.
